Building An Ancestor Altar

Inspiration for intentionally creating your own altar to honor your dead and celebrate the lineage you stem from

To accompany this letter, a playlist of songs to listen to while you build your ancestor altar and when you are in a mood for remembering

Dear Reader,

How do you prepare when inviting company into your home? In anticipation of visitors, you might sweep the floors, wash any dishes left in the sink, open the windows for fresh air, prepare food, or have a drink to offer them when they arrive. All of these ways in which you are making ready are an offering to your guests, an invitation into your space. It says you are welcome here.

I find creating an ancestral altar to be much like preparing for houseguests. In general: tidy up, have something to offer, and make the space inviting.

A ley line connecting generations

Ancestral altars exist in cultures all around the world, each with their unique customs and traditions and ways for honoring their dead. I first felt a deep connection to this practice while observing a seasonal community altar in my small hometown in Northern California in honor of Día De Los Muertos, an All Souls Day celebrated throughout Latin America where families welcome back the souls of the deceased with vibrant festivities, their favorite foods, and colorfully adorned altars. I adore the garlands of golden marigolds like strands of suns draped over black and white portraits, the ornately decorated baked treats left on small plates for the spirits to feast on, the music, the colors — the transformation of something morbid into an intentional and vibrant celebration.

The local families who contributed to this yearly community altar co-created a visually beautiful space with treasured mementos from their loved ones’ earth-life, stocked the metaphorical pantry with their favorite foods and beverages, lovingly arranged their photos, and imbued life by way of vases of fresh flowers. This was a homecoming for the ancestors and the space was nothing short of inviting.

Calling it back home

In the early years of exploring the Italian branch of my own lineage, I learned that Italy has its own All Souls Day rituals. Regionally known as Festa Dei Morti, Ognisanti and Giorno Dei Morti, this time of year is celebrated similarly to Día De Los Muertos with ancestral altars adorned in all of the things that the dead enjoyed in their lifetime. This discovery not only granted me deeper personal connection to the cultural practices of reverently celebrating the ancestors, but because I can now do so through the lens of my own ancestors, the work feels more greatly supported. Somewhere in my bones this practice is familiar. It speaks directly to my lineage, to things they’d done before for generations. So could it be believed then, that these efforts are better recognized to those I am venerating? A clear channel of connection to the other side.

What do you know about your lineage’s customs around death and ancestral veneration? What questions do you have? Who might you ask? Where might you look?

Crediting your contributors

I tend to an ancestral altar because it is one facet to the multi dimensional experience of cultivating a relationship with my lineage, which gives me deeper understanding of my place in the world, context for where I’m wanting to go, and in essence, a more holistic understanding of myself. I am who I am because of my relationships — because of strong matriarchs and fragile ones too, because of brave immigrants and the losses and gains from assimilation, because of tradition and the breaking thereof, because of people who loved and took risks and made sacrifices and endured loss and made strides — for the sake of me, some before ever knowing me. There are also the chosen loves of a lifetime, the irreplaceable friendships, the comforting companions, and they too live on my altar.

Who has contributed to the creation of who you are?

Remembering and what it means to be remembered

When we think about our ancestors, what are we reminiscing on? When I recall my grandfather I think of the scent of sunscreen, Sunday comics, old standard songs, and affectionately affirming hand written notes in birthday cards. What these very specific memories translate to is his cautious nature, quality time together when he’d come for visits, a shared love for being moved by music, and his unique to his generation ability to generously express his love and admiration to the people he cared about. This is how he lives in my memory and it supports my process in deciding how to honor him on my altar.

Who do you want to honor on your altar? What reminds you of them? What did they enjoy during their life? What might they have needed but didn’t have in their lifetime that you can offer them now? For example, I have included coins to offer some of my ancestors the resources they didn’t have access to in their lifetime.

Consider where in your home you would entertain any usual guests and build your altar there. In choosing a place you see daily, you will think of your ancestors often and engage with the space you’ve created for them regularly. Once you’ve decided on who to include on your altar, it’s time to consider what objects you’ll use to represent and honor your loved ones. From here, your creation process can unfold in endless ways, and this is the beauty of the unique personality of an ancestral altar. The only “right” way is the way that feels right to you.

One of the most memorable altars I’ve seen was at the entrance of my local, small-town grocery store in memoriam of its owner. There, lovingly set upon a polyester black tablecloth within a circle of a fresh flower lei was his photo nestled between a bottle of hot sauce and a can of Coors Lite. Simple and effective and also an important reminder to adorn the altar with things your ancestor’s spirit will recognize.

If you have, include objects that belonged to them in their lifetime — jewelry, linens, a watch, cooking utensils, a book, a hat, a tool, or sacred objects like prayer beads or rosary. Other items could be plants that are relevant to them, like their favorite flower or herbs, and reminders of things they enjoyed like game pieces, sheet music or printed lyrics to their favorite song. Every item, whether having belonged to them personally or not, should be connected to those you’re honoring — items that their spirits would recognize as familiar reminders of their life here on earth.

Something to consider while selecting photographs is that some ancestral altar builders and cultures believe that images of the living should not be included — say, a photo of your now-deceased grandmother holding you as a child. This doesn’t particularly speak to me but I know it feels significantly symbolic for some.

Similar to setting a table, you may choose to lay a foundation for all of your other objects to rest upon. This can be something as simple as a scarf or a cloth or a round of wood to anchor your altar space. If using both photos and objects, the arrangement is very much up to your personal aesthetic but the key is layering. Set items next to the photo of the ancestor whom they are an offering for. If using only a collection of items without photos, perhaps keep like items grouped together. Also consider keeping family members or familiar people near to one another just as you might if you had all these folks over for a dinner party.

Reweaving unraveled threads

To have a flushed out family tree and to be in possession of treasured heirlooms is something not everyone has access to. The histories of immigrant and enslaved peoples is often difficult to track if not completely erased from when they left their homelands. For many, the necessity — or force — to assimilate meant survival in new lands and it also meant the erasure of cultural names, customs, and spiritual practices.

To honor your lineage without knowing the details, you can include photos or maps of where you think they lived or lands you suspect they hailed from. You could simply leave intentional space, like leaving an open chair, an honorary seat for those that were but are not known. Or, to represent your place in the greater web of life, your interconnectedness to all things, collect objects for the elements — air, fire, water, and earth.

For air // scents, feathers, bells, song, prayer, storytelling.

For fire // candles, incense.

For water // shells, seawater, spring water.

For earth // stones, flowers, herbs, salt, live plants.

Whatever the extent of your offerings, if given with heart, know that it is enough. Use what you have, just as your ancestors did. There really isn’t a need to purchase special items in order to create a meaningful altar. Sometimes just a few thoughtfully chosen items can be the most effective. Your altar will become a living thing and your relationship with it will evolve. Build it slowly and add to it organically over time. Allow your intuition to guide you.